


The Doctor and the Actor

by vamplover82



Series: The Doctor and the Actor [1]
Category: Star Trek (2009), Star Trek RPF
Genre: Crossover, Drunk Sex, Hand Job, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-25
Updated: 2009-06-25
Packaged: 2017-10-05 11:25:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vamplover82/pseuds/vamplover82
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karl is late leaving set, and he finds an unexpected visitor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Doctor and the Actor

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and con. crit. are much appreciated. Written as a comment fic for [this prompt](http://community.livejournal.com/st_xi_kink/4104.html?thread=10137096#t10137096) at [](http://community.livejournal.com/st_xi_kink/profile)[**st_xi_kink**](http://community.livejournal.com/st_xi_kink/).

Karl is done for the day, about to head home, when he realizes that he's left his cell phone on set. He remembers having it when they were filming sickbay scenes, so he heads in that direction. He had been pretty sure everyone was gone, but there's someone poking around the set.

"Hey mate, what are you still doing here? And in costume, too."

The other man turns around, and Karl's mouth drops open. They stare at each other for a moment in silence. "Who the hell are you?"

Karl blinks, surprised that they managed to say the same thing at the exact same time. He bites the bullet and offers, "I'm Karl Urban."

"Dr. Leonard McCoy."

And that's the kicker, because Karl knew who he was at first glance, but it wasn't exactly...believable. Yeah, the guy has his face and is dressed in the damned Starfleet uniform, but still. A hallucination seems rather more likely. Then there's a hand on his shoulder, and apparently it's not a hallucination.

"Are you alright?" McCoy doesn't look terribly surprised by this turn of events.

"Fine, fine."

"Good. Care to tell me why there's a section of my sickbay over there?"

Trust McCoy to get right to it. "Well, you see..." And Karl proceeds to try to explain Star Trek, while McCoy looks thoughtful.

"That explains why we look the same, at least."

"You're awfully calm about this," Karl observes.

"Could be worse. At least no one's trying to kill me. Not the strangest thing that's happened to me by any stretch."

"Really? You've had something stranger than this happen to you." Karl doesn't care that he sounds skeptical, because seriously, he'd have guessed this was the weirdest it could get.

"Well okay, maybe not, but with Jim Kirk for a captain, strange things happen most of the time. This is just another in a long line." McCoy sighs.

Karl clears his throat. "How did you get here, anyway? Maybe we can find a way to send you back."

He knows it's ludicrous as soon as he says it; they don't have anything approaching the type of technology the Enterprise would, so there's not much to be done. McCoy obviously agrees, as he raises his eyebrow in skepticism. It's a little eerie seeing someone else using his facial expressions, even if they do look like him.

"That damn transporter. I always knew that thing would end up being a deathtrap. They were beaming me back to the ship, and I thought it had actually worked for once, but when I walked out of the transporter room, I found myself here." McCoy gestures to encompass the set, and yeah, that must have been jarring. "I found the section of sickbay and was just checking it out when you came in."

Karl ignores the fact that the transporter obviously wasn't a deathtrap in this case in favor of more important things. "They'll work out a way to get you back, if they're anything like I think they are."

McCoy nods, apparently believing in his crew as much as Karl does. "I guess I should probably get back to the transporter room. Since that's where I showed up, that should be where I get picked back up again."

Karl supposes it makes sense, and he trails behind as McCoy heads back, having decided on a course of action. McCoy takes a seat on the transporter pad, and Karl lingers a few feet away, not sure whether to join him or whether to just head out as he'd been planning.

"You gonna come sit with me, or what?" McCoy's words jar Karl out of his thoughts.

"Yeah, give me just a minute." Karl hurries off and heads toward his trailer, where he's got most of a bottle of Jim Beam stashed.

When he gets back, McCoy is frowning as he sits where Karl left him, but a small smile appears when Karl holds up the bottle. Karl takes a seat next to him, opening the bottle and taking a mouthful. He isn't much of a drinker (which is why the bottle's still mostly full), but he figures if ever there were a time for some alcohol, it's now. McCoy seems to agree, because he takes a long gulp when Karl passes him the bottle.

They continue passing it back and forth in silence for about five minutes before Karl decides that they really should talk about _something_. "Tell me about yourself," he requests.

McCoy turns his head to glance at Karl out of the corner of his eye, but he does as requested. He talks about going to med school in Mississippi, being a small-town doctor, Starfleet Academy, the Enterprise. Karl isn't sure if he should be surprised that he knows some of it already. Of course, McCoy adds personal details and stories that he wouldn't even have been able to guess, so it still makes for an interesting time. It's nice, finding out about this character he's been playing for the last few months, and he thinks McCoy gets that.

After awhile, though, McCoy goes quiet. They've polished off about half of what was in the bottle, and Karl is definitely fuzzy around the edges, so he just takes another swig and stays silent. "What's it like, pretending to be me?" McCoy finally asks.

And Karl...really doesn't know how to answer that. It's been fun and interesting, and about a dozen other things he could say, but somehow it seems trite to say something like that to the subject of the portrayal. "I don't really know. It's been like a totally different life, I guess. But you, being here, it's like seeing an old friend for the first time in years. I feel like I know you really well, but it's obvious that I don't." Karl knows that he didn't really answer the question, but McCoy doesn't press him on it, seemingly satisfied with what he's given.

They're down to a fourth of the bottle before either one speaks again. "Jim would be so jealous."

"What?" Karl's slurring a little bit now, but he's not totally gone.

"The two of us, here together. He's going to be jealous when I get back and tell him about it."

"How come?" Karl isn't quite sure where this is going, and his brain isn't working fast enough to figure it out.

"Because if he were here, he'd charm us both into thinking that kissing each other would be the best idea ever."

Karl hands the bottle back to McCoy, determined not to drink anymore. He's had too much already if he's hearing things like that. "Right." He draws the word out, liking how it sounds.

McCoy looks amused. "Oh, he would. And as drunk as you are, I'm sure you'd be putty in his hands. Probably would be anyway; most people are."

"And you wouldn't be?"

McCoy flushes slightly. "I probably would, too. Jim's damn near irresistible when he's turning on the charm."

Karl thinks about that, slumping against McCoy as he reaches to take the bottle back, forgetting all about not drinking more.

"We could, you know. Try it. I'll never hear the end of it if we don't."

To Karl's sluggish brain, it makes a certain amount of sense. If anyone would give McCoy shit about not kissing someone who looks almost exactly like him, it'd be Jim Kirk. So he sits up a little and tilts his body forward, glad when McCoy's hands come up to his face to make sure he hits his target.

They're kissing, then, and it's weird, but somehow really, really hot. Karl just goes with it, ignoring the small part of his brain that is yelling that this is incredibly vain and he really shouldn't be doing it. It takes him a minute to realize that his hand has somehow made it into McCoy's pants, but the feel of that dick against his hand is familiar enough to make him pull out of the kiss in surprise.

McCoy just stares at him, letting him make the decision here, which Karl really appreciates at the moment. He strokes once, experimentally, and McCoy lets out a shuddery breath. His own dick twitches at that, and yeah, apparently he's hard, too. Right now, that's good enough for Karl, and he starts up a slow rhythm, just like he likes it. Seconds later, McCoy's hand finds its way into his pants, and then they're jacking each other off, no bones about it.

Karl is almost relieved to find, though, that when he tries the things that would usually set him off in no time, McCoy doesn't respond in the same way. It makes it feel just a little less strange, that this body that is so like his own isn't actually the same. So he speeds up, just as a test, and McCoy's breath starts to hitch.

In no time at all, McCoy is coming in Karl's hand, and Karl follows not more than three strokes later. After a moment's resting time, McCoy is gently disengaging from him, and Karl makes an effort to help, sliding away a little before slumping over.

He's just on the verge of sleep when he hears McCoy's voice. "Goodbye, Karl. And thanks."

He realizes that McCoy is probably being transported away, right at that very moment, and he tries to sit up, wanting to say something. Suddenly, he feels sort of like someone is tugging at every inch of his body. _Oh shit_, he thinks as the transporter room set dissolves into nothingness, _they must have gotten me, too._


End file.
